


The Night Before The End

by Tub



Series: Kyla: Red Light Series [8]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Declarations Of Love, Desperation, Drama, Emotional Porn, Emotional Sex, First Time Topping, Fluff, Gay Sex, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 14:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tub/pseuds/Tub
Summary: The revolution is here. It's do or die, and there's no more time to spare.Staldar and Yorsashi get away for a night. Very possibly, the last night of their lives.They make it count.(Canon.)





	The Night Before The End

The week flies by in a blur. Staldar has a finger on so many different pulses, making sure plans follow through, making plans of his own, doing what he can to assist. He spends hours bent over documents, maps, forms, and then he’s out in the city, with the people, side-by-side, pouring sweat as they pull the wall down. It’s work, hard work. It’s methodical, careful, but still brutal, and he returns exhausted, covered in dirt and dust, even his rough and calloused hands wrecked and claws blunted, raw and weeping from the work of tearing brick from mortar. He hardly cares, doesn’t mind how his muscles ache, how sore and shaky his hands are, joints stiff and inflamed. Yorsashi is there to greet him when he returns, helps him wash away the sweat and grime, buttons his clean shirt for him when his fingers don’t cooperate, wraps those same hands in bandages.

A little part of him still fears burdening Yorsashi, that he shouldn’t let himself be coddled so, but Yorsashi cups Staldar’s hands in his own and gently nuzzles into his palms, and he knows that it’s alright. There’s an unspoken ‘ _ I know _ ,’ a silent ‘ _ you’re not alone _ .’ Staldar can’t help but think that perhaps he’s simply happy that Staldar comes to him at all for such little things. Yorsashi is kept busy too, but this, he makes time for, gladly.

The week wears on, until it is almost done. Unexpectedly, a night comes, quiet, unharried, and somehow, unexhausted. His hands have healed enough that the wraps aren’t necessary, and he’s done all he can to prepare for the days ahead. There’s little else to do. A spark of something oddly spontaneous takes hold of him, as he and Yorsashi simply enjoy the peace together. He feels, vaguely, that perhaps it’s not quite right to feel so giddy right before judgement day, but it’s as though  _ because _ of that very reason, all sense of weight and urgency has lifted; he’s done all he can, the rest is up to fate.

This sudden spontaneity leads them to a riverbank out in the fields, and they’re engaged, and things are happening so quickly, but somehow not quickly enough at the same time. He’s stumbling over his words one moment, trying his best to be at least somewhat seductive, and then they’re trading licks and nuzzling one another, giggling with each other at the absurdity of their entire situation, and then Yorsashi’s laugh turns into an unflattering wheezing hiss, and they laugh harder, Staldar’s laugh a loud bark in the darkness. They laugh until they’re sobbing with it, ribs hurting, tears falling, clutching each other like lifelines, shaking, and neither of them knows what’s joy and what’s fear anymore. They may as well be one in the same as they hold each other, catching their breath, wiping away one another’s tears, grinning, trembling. The moment of shared hysterics passes, and they lapse back into quiet, sounds of the night returning— insect song, the rush of the river.

Staldar watches Yorsashi’s face, his eyes, wet and wide and reflecting the light of the moons. The moment seems to hang, lingering, neither quite willing to shatter it.

He doesn’t know what exactly has shifted, what’s changed, but there’s a distinct moment where longing turns into  _ need _ . He doesn’t just want to be with Yorsashi, but needs it, needs it more than he knows what to do with it— his warmth, his heartbeat, his soft breaths, all of it, all of him, alive, and well, and  _ here _ , with  _ him _ . Yorsashi is so close, caressing his face, not quite entangled together, and he feels warmth spread from the inside out, but something else, too. No more fear and nerves and trepidation, not like the last time, just… intensity. Urgency.

If his expression betrays him, Yorsashi’s mirrors exactly how he feels, mouth parted, eyes growing focused, intent, a little dark.

“I want— “

“Yes,” Yorsashi breathes immediately, shuddering against him, and Staldar just rolls them over deftly, all but smothering Yorsashi under him. Yorsashi moves in kind, wrapping his arms around Staldar’s neck, parting his legs to accommodate, one knee inching up to frame Staldar’s hip.

There’s no more waiting, no more wondering, just here and now, so Staldar’s hands don’t hesitate, pulling at the hem of Yorsashi’s shirt, rough hands meeting soft scales. One of Yorsashi’s hands finds its way down to Staldar’s collar and begins tugging buttons free from their clasps, until there’s a moment where they have to part however briefly to disrobe further. It’s not a race, at least, not against each other so much as time itself to get undressed. Articles of clothing get discarded, tossed carelessly to the wayside, until they’re both bare. They briefly take each other in, hoping to commit this very moment to memory, wanting it to last, but like magnets, they meet again, flush together.

Yorsashi’s already firm against his hip, while Staldar is a little slower to rise to the occasion— he’s more than fine with this, focusing all his attention on touching, pouring all his reverence, his admiration into it, trailing downwards with hands and mouth, and when Yorsashi gives a small sound of protest, trying to guide him back up, but Staldar holds him still and gives soft growl— not of threat, but intent,  _ ‘let me _ ,’ — and Yorsashi flushes and goes lax, releasing a shivery breath. Assent.

Nosing his way down, hands coming to rest on Yorsashi’s thighs as he moves back along the ground, he’s quick to gently lave at the underside of Yorsashi’s member, as Yorsashi had done for him. The reaction is nearly instant, Yorsashi tensing beneath him, choking on a desperate noise, muffling himself as though someone would still hear him. Staldar looks up momentarily.

“ _ Tir ti jashi coi _ ,” He murmurs, voice rough. “No one will hear, no one but me.”

“A-ah, right,” Yorsashi says, half embarrassed, half relieved, smiling sheepishly down at Staldar. Staldar just meets his gaze evenly, dragging his tongue back up his shaft, and Yorsashi’s face grows clouded as he watches, breath quickening. Staldar feels his muscles jump and twitch under his hands, feels his prick twitch on his tongue, and changes his methods, lapping, slicking the way for his hand. Yorsashi’s voice rises an octave at the touch, sighs and moans growing sharper, needier. He’s so lovely like this, spread out, chest rising and falling, making sounds that cause Staldar to stir in empathy, growing against the blanket below them. Yorsashi’s hands keep wandering, not quite sure where they want to stay, touching his own chest, his neck, before grasping at the ground, almost reaching for Staldar’s face at one point but quickly changing course again. Staldar almost pauses to tell him to simply hold his horns, if he must, but that would mean stopping.

Staldar keeps him like this for a moment longer, savoring the way he can feel the beat of his heart all the way down in his thighs, the herbal smell of whatever oils and soaps he’d used recently, then something beneath, something that’s distinctly just  _ him _ . He’d stay like this forever if he could, head bowed in worship— but they don’t have forever.

Staldar lifts his head, and Yorsashi gives a trembling sigh.

“What should I do,  _ ethe-itov? _ ” Staldar asks, massaging the shaking muscles beneath his hands. “What would you have of me?”

“I rather liked what you were doing,” Yorsashi laments, a little humor in his voice, though he grows serious again, contemplative. “Though if it’s not… too much—”

“If you want it, then I want it too,” Staldar says firmly, pushing himself up and forward, bringing his face close to Yorsashi’s. “Don’t be afraid to ask me for anything,  _ ethe-itov _ . Not a single thing.” Yorsashi blinks at his intensity, but slowly smiles, and nods, flushing.

“I want to— I want you to make love to me,” he breathes softly, legs subtly shifting to spread further, and Staldar feels him shiver, and his body grows warm in response. “I want to feel you. All of you.” Hearing it said, if Staldar wasn’t quite stiff before, he is now, resisting the urge to grind down against Yorsashi. Of course, Yorsashi seems to read him like a book, watching him this closely, and slides a leg up, hooking his heel around the back of one of his thighs, pulling him close once more, slotting their bodies together neatly with a wriggle. Firm hands and limbs tugging at him, warm breath on his neck, molten-hot flesh pressing insistently up against him, Staldar knows that this sense of need is entirely mutual.

“What do I need to do? What do you need?”

“I— oil. We need oil,” Yorsashi replies, but doesn’t make any move to release Staldar. Staldar just nods and quickly peers around for his belt and the pack attached to it, and finds it within reach. Yorsashi only just gives him enough leeway to reach and dig about, but does his damnedest to be completely distracting, taking advantage of his exposed neck. Staldar finally feels cool metal at his fingertips and pulls out a small flask— full of oil, to add to firewood for an extended burn. Well. That’s what he’d told himself while packing it.

Even just before their late night excursion, Staldar had been too nervous to get his hopes up. It’s a constant battle, trying to accept that Yorsashi truly wants him, wants anything to do with him.

That fear doesn’t hold true now, of course.

He pours a generous amount of oil into his hand, letting it grow warm for just a moment before gently grasping them both, easily coating them with a single slow pump. It’s a lot, for just a moment, still so unused to these indulgences. Luckily for him, Yorsashi isn’t feeling so patient this time around, quickly placing a trembling hand over Staldar’s to still him.

“Don’t bother, please, I just—,” he swallows, trying to catch his breath. “You’ve warmed me up enough, I’d rather spend what little time we have doing… other things,” he breathes, pulling Staldar’s hand away and guiding it downwards, until his fingertips are brushing tentatively over that far-too-intimate place. Staldar fights against his own skittishness for a few seconds, inexperience outweighing his own passion in that moment, but Yorsashi makes such a soft little sound of pleasure at the touch that he stays, and Yorsashi’s hand retracts to give Staldar room to move. Staldar pauses, uncertain.

“Ah… How should I…?”

“You just want to spread the oil first and then just— massage?”

Staldar slowly nods, pressing his fingertips a little more firmly against the little knot of muscle, earning a sigh of relief and exaltation from Yorsashi. He gives a little squirm, both legs now hitching up over the backs of Staldar’s thighs, but Staldar feels his claws accidentally brush a little too hard against the more delicate scales there, and swiftly pulls his hand back. They’re still slightly blunted from scraping against brick and stone for hours, but they’ve grown back long enough and hard enough to be a problem.

“I’m sorry, but I might hurt you if—”

“You’re not going to hurt me, Staldar—”

“I will if I’m not careful, Yorsashi.”

“Then be careful,” Yorsashi replies simply, as if the solution is just that obvious, in a tone that brooks no argument. One hand cups Staldar’s face, holding his attention, and Staldar just sees trust in his face. “You won’t hurt me.”

Staldar believes him. But, just to be safe, sure, he sits up with a huff, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. It’s slightly awkward, but he manages to bite off the excess of his nails until they’re nearly flat, and harmless. Yorsashi watches, a curious expression on his face. “Th-that’s one way to go about it, I suppose,” he murmurs quietly. Staldar just gives him a quick, wry smile before applying a little more oil to his fingertips and leaning back in to tease at Yorsashi from above and below. The little breathy ‘ah!’ he earns is more than enough encouragement to continue, pressing more and more insistently, moving in little circles.

“Should I…?” He growls into Yorsashi’s throat, and Yorsashi nods frantically, arching against him.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Yorsashi gasps emphatically. “Please!” He tries to part his thighs wider yet, though he’s already splayed out as far as he can. Staldar stills him, or tries to, urging him to relax.

“You’ll stop me if I do anything you dislike or if it’s too much?”

“Staldar, I hope to feel you days from now,” Yorsashi rasps, voice unusually rough with unshielded want. “If you manage to be ‘too much’ for me, tonight of all nights, I’ll be elated.” When Staldar neither moves nor replies, staring down at Yorsashi with a pinched expression, Yorsashi, pulls at him needfully, nuzzling up into his neck. “I’ll let you know if I dislike anything, Staldar, I promise, I will, but please, don’t feel like you must be so careful with me. Like you have to hold back.” He pulls back to look Staldar in the eyes again. “Don’t hold back.”

Once again, Staldar finds himself blinking in mild surprise, but lowers his face into the crook of Yorsashi’s neck with a gentle nod and presses down and  _ in _ . Yorsashi utters something of a little whimper, tensing for a brief second before seemingly melting, falling lax and pliant. Staldar’s hand remains steady, almost despite himself, Yorsashi’s coaxing and his own fervor keeping him from losing his nerve entirely. He’s completely enrapt with Yorsashi, his sounds, his expressions, his body, the heat radiating from him. Curled around him, feeling him from the inside, every tremble, every flex, feeling the vibrations of his moans against his nose, his pulse, he almost forgets that they’re out in the open, exposed to the cold night air, where anyone could see. Everything outside of his periphery, for all he knows or cares, simply doesn’t exist.

Yorsashi writhes on his finger once he’s bottomed out, body tightening before relaxing again, moaning quietly. “Try—  _ hah _ — try curling it forward, up, just a little, a-and then, a-ahh, moving,” Yorsashi pants. Staldar does just as he suggests, and the reaction is nearly instant, Yorsashi arching off the ground with a sharp cry, entire body tensing, clenching, eyes wide as if he’d been surprised by his own reaction, scrabbling at Staldar’s back. “ _ Ha-ahh, ah,  _ f-fuck…!”

Staldar goes still once more, not that he could move much anyways, the way Yorsashi holds him in place, in more ways than one.

“Are you… alright?” He murmurs softly, using his free hand to stroke the side of Yorsashi’s face tenderly. Yorsashi gives a little half-hearted, breathy laugh.

“I-It’s been a little too long since… I might be, um, a little too excited?” He replies, flustered and slightly addled, shuddering. “My problem is that I’m  _ too _ alright,” he chuckles quietly, deliriously. Staldar smiles in relief and amusement, nudging his nose gently against Yorsashi’s.

“Need a break?”

“Absolutely not, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d start moving again,” Yorsashi huffs, giving a determined wriggle, to little avail. Staldar snorts, giving his wrist a thrust, driving a high, breathless noise of pleasure from him, head falling back.

Staldar continues like this, rocking his hand in a slow, steady rhythm, being sure to press against whatever it is inside of Yorsashi that makes him cry out so sweetly. He tries to whisper sweet nothings, endearments, but interrupts himself with ragged gasps and incoherent little utterances. His hands wander, sometimes straying down to try and grasp at Staldar, try to reciprocate, but when Staldar growls and pulls his hand up and away, pinning it to the ground by their heads, he shivers in response, watching with surprise. Staldar just gives a little smirk, locking his fingers with Yorsashi’s, increasing his rhythm with the other. Yorsashi’s hand tightens around his own, arching against him again, mouth parting, exposing his throat.

“A-another,  _ ah _ , add another finger,” Yorsashi pleads, eyes unfocused, glazed. “M-more oil, and then one more, please, I need— I want—!”

“I’ve got you,” Staldar hushes, slowly extracting himself, pulling away. Yorsashi’s limbs tremble too much to cling, though he certainly tries, reluctant to lose any points of contact (and making a particularly disgruntled sound upon the removal of Staldar’s hand from between his legs). It only takes a brief moment, quickly applying more oil, though they spare a few seconds to find support for Yorsashi’s hips, getting into a better position. With a nod and a sigh from the smaller dragonborn, Staldar grips his narrow hip in one hand, pressing forward with the other. There’s more resistance this time, but Yorsashi stutters at him not to stop, to keep going, and he’s not about to disobey. His body finally yields, and Yorsashi’s reedy moan of pleasure-pain causes Staldar a pang of concerned affection— if  _ this _ was uncomfortable…? But he knows better than to underestimate Yorsashi.

There’s a long moment of adjustment, both just breathing a little too hard and fast, holding each other, but Yorsashi bucks against him eagerly again, patience wearing thin. Staldar is finally beginning to feel his own patience fray at the edges, so if he puts a little more haste and power behind his movements, well, Yorsashi has no complaints for him.

No, Yorsashi is vocal about exactly how good Staldar is doing, how good he feels in the moment, as Staldar hits his stride.

“Oh,  _ si itov wux _ ,  _ d-dout cha’sidic, zyak bensvelk, _ ” he babbles hoarsely, just able to string words together in a compliment. Staldar rumbles in acknowledgement, lapping at his throat, and Yorsashi gives a particularly hard shudder, voice breaking beneath him, hard prick giving a twitch, drooling between them. Staldar gives a pleased growl, teeth grazing his scales, twisting his fingers slightly on the next stroke, curling forward even more.

Apparently this is exactly the right (or wrong) thing to do, as Yorsashi suddenly lurches, straining hard against him, one hand squeezing the nape of his neck tightly, the other jumping down between them to grasp at his prick. Staldar stops where he is as Yorsashi goes quiet, holding his breath, entire body tensing up tight beneath him, fingers constricted, and then with a trembling pulse, he exhales sharply, making a sound Staldar can only interpret as distress or pain, as his brow furrows and he shuts his eyes tight.

“‘Sashi…?”

Staldar only gets a choked moan in response, followed by a slew of draconic curses as he falls lax against the blanket, huffing like he’d just run laps.

"... Alright?" Staldar tries, petting the side of Yorsashi's face with mild concern. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, no," Yorsashi breathes, eyes fluttering open. He suddenly flushes so bright under his scales that Staldar can see it in the moonlight. He looks a bit like he does when he’s had too much to drink. "No, not hurt. I-I, uh…” A little embarrassed laugh burbles from him and he hides his face against Staldar’s chest, legs and arms wrapped around him. “You truly don’t understand the effect you have on me, do you? How much I…” He trails off, fingers rubbing idle circles. Staldar just keeps still, one thumb still stroking along Yorsashi’s jaw. “I was more pent up than I thought. It’s been a long while since I peaked from fingers alone like that. I hadn’t...” A shudder causes him to pause and catch his breath again. “Didn’t mean for that to happen, really. Lucky that I didn’t, um,  _ release _ as well,” Yorsashi laughs a little again, still rosy-faced and shyly smiling into Staldar’s scales. Staldar feels a wash of warmth, realizing what had just happened.

“I didn’t know it could happen, like that,” he mumbles. Yorsashi just grins up at him.

“For some. Not everyone. And not always, at least, not for me.” Yorsashi’s nose brushes softly against the underside of his jaw, tongue laving at him, and Staldar shivers. “You’ve got me wound up like I’m nineteen again and can’t keep it together. I can’t seem to hold onto my composure when we’re together like this,” he sighs. Staldar vaguely feels his breath leveling out again, his heartbeat slowing, but still strong and quick under his own.

_ ‘I feel the same _ ,’ he thinks, but doesn’t say. He’s not feeling very wordy, anymore.

He removes his fingers slowly, and Yorsashi groans shakily, exhaling with a full-body shiver.

“Are you ready?” Staldar’s voice is steadier than he feels, everything in him tense like a freshly strung bow, burning with anticipation. Yorsashi bucks against him with a needful mewl, hands searching for Staldar’s hips, pulling at him, trying to get all the closer.

“Been ready, for so long—!” His fingers dig greedily into soft muscle, claws barely scratching and prickling between scales, and Staldar growls, shifting. He hefts Yorsashi’s hips up to meet his own better, and Yorsashi gasps in surprise, then delight, arching with the movement, but Staldar holds him still. Yorsashi had control last time, but this time, Staldar is determined to set the pace.

And the pace, at the moment, is back to slow and methodical. He’d swallow his own tongue before he rushed  _ this _ , no matter how much they both ache for it, no matter how much his instinct begs for him to just  _ take _ , just  _ claim _ . That. That can come after.

He’s pressing forward, and it’s all he can do not to lose himself the entire time.

How  _ anything  _ could feel like  _ this _ , he can’t quite fathom— like he’s on fire and electrified all at once, but also like he’s underwater, a thousand feet underwater, being crushed from all sides, but in a way that isn’t terrifying and painful, but dizzying and  _ good _ . It’s not  _ so _ different from before, but also entirely different because this is as close as they would ever be able to get, as intimate as could be, and he’s so much more aware of both of their bodies this time, concentrating on not just rutting into him.  _ ‘Gods, does it always feel like this?’ _

“No,” Yorsashi gasps in answer, quivering under him, open-mouthed panting into Staldar’s shoulder, and Staldar realizes that he’d said the thought aloud, head swimming and limbs shaking. “No, it doesn’t always feel like this,” he croaks, voice strained, ready to break. Staldar tries not to let his alarm cause him to misstep, though his heart leaps into his throat.

“Yorsashi—”

“I’m alright,” he interrupts, swallowing, breathing fast and shallow for a moment, trying to regain control of his emotions. He gives a watery smile, a tear managing to escape. “I’m more than alright,” he says, with a little hiccup. “Didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just… good. A lot.”

“Yes,” Staldar agrees, breathing a sigh of relief. “ _ Si itov wux _ ,” he whispers, voice rough and quiet.

“ _ Si itov wux, kiri, _ ” Yorsashi replies, just as quiet, tenderly. “Now, please make love to me,” he laughs, bumping his nose against Staldar’s affectionately. Staldar is only too eager to comply.

The first few moments of experimental movements, still slightly overwhelmed by just how tight and warm Yorsashi is on him, are a bit awkward and stilted, not quite commiting to an angle or rhythm right away. Yorsashi has taken to whispering words of encouragement again, draconic sweet-nothings between breaths, but gets interrupted by a particularly precise thrust as Staldar rocks forward, stealing the ability to speak from him momentarily. And then Staldar does it again, and again, clawed feet digging through the blanket into the grit below for leverage. Words give way to little ecstatic breaths, moans, panting— in fact, they’re both rather quiet, once Staldar finds his tempo. Not silent, but out in the wide open, their shared labored breathing is nearly drowned out by the water, and by equally amorous frogs and crickets in the tall grasses. It reflects the quiet Staldar feels in his own mind, perception narrowed to simply  _ them  _ and  _ now _ .

“ _ T-temepilt _ ,” Yorsashi gasps, eventually.  _ Faster. _ Every so often, his member would brush against Staldar’s stomach, hard and leaking, but he doesn’t make any move to touch or stroke himself, though he can’t seem to resist grinding up against him, and then back down as Staldar pushes forward.

Staldar curls himself around Yorsashi more, cradling him, and speeds up with short, focused thrusts, head tucked into Yorsashi’s shoulder. Yorsashi makes his appreciation known, whispering “ _ axun, axun, _ ” before devolving into little “ _ ah, ah, ah _ ”s of pleasure, voice starting to rise again. Staldar feels a little swell of pride, but the drag of claws up his back, catching on his scales and pulling them the wrong direction causes him to stop with a grunt, wracked by a shiver from the prickling sensation, digging his own claws into the ground.

“Easy,” he huffs gently, and Yorsashi makes an inquisitive sound, catching his breath. “Your claws,  _ ethe-itov _ ,” Staldar informs, and Yorsashi gasps, petting a hand back down Staldar’s shoulder blade, soothing over the ‘ruffled’ scales.

“You were worried about scratching me, but here I am, almost carving into you,” Yorsashi exclaims apologetically. Staldar gives his throat a little lick before leaning back just a little, just enough to have room to let his hands caress over Yorsashi's chest, along his arms, guiding them up over his head before pinning them down. Yorsashi writhes happily at this, chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, fingers linking with Staldar’s.

“You seemed to like this earlier. No need to worry about turning me into a scratching post now,” Staldar laughs.

“I hope you take it as the compliment that it is,” Yorsashi giggles back. “And I like all the things you do.”

“I quite like all the things you do, too.”

“Aside from scraping up your scales, of course.”   
  


“Ah, true, not quite my favorite. Everything else, though— I’m very fond.”

“I’d love it if you showed your fondness by continuing to thoroughly ravage me,” Yorsahsi intones hotly, hips bucking, straining up against him. His tongue flicks out to tease at Staldar’s mouth, and Staldar snorts affectionately, before he growls, low and intentional, deeper in his chest than before, in the place in his chest where  _ ice  _ and  _ roar _ meet. The place that’s not just dragonborn but  _ dragon _ . And he bears down, hips driving forward, deep, and Yorsashi muffles a cry, a sharp exhale against his scales.

“ _ Rumag! _ ” It’s a bleat, pleading but also a declaration.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Staldar hisses back, drawing back to rut forward again. “ _ Mrrandii _ ,  _ ethe-mrrandii _ ,” he pants.  _ My husband. My mate. _ It’s an intoxicating thought. Even if tomorrow would be more formality than true celebration, even if only for a day, it would be made all the truer. It was true all along, in a way, except for his own foolishness standing in the way.

He finally takes what’s been freely given.

Their love-making turns feverish quickly, moving in tandem, each trying to please the other, bring him to the precipice, and climax looms over the pair. Yorsashi’s cries are near-frantic, wordless, but still clear in their meaning,  _ ‘don’t stop, don’t slow down, keep going, please, please, please.’  _ Even trembling and wrecked, pinned and open and vulnerable, Yorsashi is stronger than he seems, strong archer’s hands squeezing, straining against him, thighs and core rolling, flexing, and Staldar is no different, entire body pistoning, starting to sweat in earnest. His own noises have given way to simply breathing, hard and fast and shallow. If his limbs hurt from exertion, from being on his hands and knees for so long, if the night air is cold, he can’t feel it.

Yorsashi makes a particularly imploring sound, and Staldar meets his eyes, and it’s over.

Even surging forward with a something of a roar, fitting himself as deeply as he possibly can, base and all, he doesn’t break from Yorsashi’s gaze, bright and devastating. It’s the touch of a livewire, like completing a circuit, a current so strong that it’s heart-stopping. 

It proves too much for both of them, as the tension finally shatters. Yorsashi shuts his eyes first, head tossing back, thrashing as his body contracts, wailing his ecstasy. Staldar nearly collapses into him, teeth clenched, hips jerking restlessly, held too tightly inside of Yorsashi and too overwhelmed to do much else. He grunts in pleasure-pain as Yorsashi bites his shoulder, whimpering, prick giving its final spasms between them, leaking seed.

The tremors of echoing pleasure linger between them for a long moment, but soon Yorsashi falls lax, licking Staldar’s sore shoulder in apology, and Staldar slowly pulls out with a final shiver, though it takes even longer for him to pull away. It’s all he can do not to curl up around Yorsashi, cradle him, mess and sweat and all, and simply fall asleep. But Yorsashi stirs beneath him, and he slowly rolls onto his side, but is careful to both not accidentally squash or lose contact with Yorsashi, not that Yorsashi is keen to stop touching him either, following his movements to fit into the crook of his arm, hands running all over him.

“ _ Si itov wux _ ,” Yorsashi whispers, and Staldar remembers that he has a voice, too.

“ _ Si itov wux, kiri _ ,” Staldar replies, voice only a little ragged. “ _ Zyak kiarf _ .” He smiles, fingers idly stroking at his jaw. “Was all of that… alright?” Yorsashi sighs into him, like he’d been expecting the question. He smiles back up at him softly, looking quite pleased with himself.

“More than ‘alright.’ ‘Excellent,’ ‘wonderful,’ ‘perfect,’ those are all more fitting than just ‘alright.’”

“Mm. I’m inclined to agree.” His hand meanders down, dragging through some of the stickiness left behind in the aftermath, humming curiously. “I had wondered, after using my fingers, how you would have liked to, um, finish, as it were. That I could bring you off twice in such a way, that was a… pleasant surprise.”

“Believe me, I was also pleasantly surprised,” Yorsashi laughs, nuzzling giddly into Staldar’s neck. “It seems very much is possible with such a diligent lover, and when you love him so dearly.” Staldar feels himself flush. “I can’t tell you how ardently and for how long I’ve wanted just this. You,” Yorsashi whispers, voice starting to shake again. “ _ Vinxa, ethe-itov, vinxa _ —”

“Hush now, stop,” Staldar interrupts, startled. “Don’t thank me, Yorsashi, not for this,” he says gently, guiding Yorsashi’s face to his own. “If anyone should be grateful, it should be me,” and Staldar soothes Yorsashi as he starts to contradict. “I won’t self-deprecate, I know you dislike it. But if there was ever a man who should be thankful, well…” Staldar smiles sadly, and Yorsashi returns it, giving a little sniffle. “I love you,  _ ethe-itov _ .”

“I love you more,” Yorsashi hiccoughs, scrubbing his eyes quickly, smile turning smug and satisfied.

“Unlikely,” Staldar scoffs, sitting up, leaning over him.

“I do!”

“It’s not possible,” Staldar laughs, giving Yorsashi’s side a tickle, earning a squeak and a kick in response. “Stop telling tales.”

“It’s true, and I have proof,” Yorsashi titters, then stretches out languorously, looking sly. “I love you so much that I’m full of your spend.”

Staldar feels himself turn scarlet, cold vapor escaping his nose.

“You’ve such a lewd mouth, when you have a mind to,” Staldar murmurs accusingly. Yorsashi just grins.

“You blush so easily, I can’t be blamed. You steamed like a tea kettle just now,” Yorsashi teases affectionately. “Naked and thoroughly sated, but still so prim and innocent.” Staldar snorts.

“Neither of us are what I would call ‘prim’ at the moment. And certainly not innocent.” Staldar watches him for a moment before ducking his head down to lave at the mess on Yorsashi’s belly, earning a high, surprised moan from him.

“S-Staldar!” He squirms fitfully, pushing at Staldar’s head. “Oh, don’t go doing things like that, you’ll have me wanting all over again.”

“I still have my tongue and fingers,  _ irthiski _ ,” Staldar growls, meeting Yorsashi’s eyes. It’s Yorsashi’s turn to blush.

“Not tonight,  _ ethe-itov _ . Another time, I would take you up on that, but not tonight. We’ll have to return soon,” Yorsashi says, slightly mournful, urging Staldar to sit up once more. “Though, I could stand to, uh, be a little less… unwashed, for the journey back,” he adds, still flushed.

Staldar looks to the river, and smiles.

“Care to go for a swim?”

“Staldar, that water must be positively frigid by now,” Yorsashi laughs.

“... And?”

“No!”

“Sorry, what was that? Suddenly I can’t hear you over the sound of the river!” Staldar crawls forward, head quirked to the side. “It sounded as though you wanted to join me in the water!” Yorsashi blinks, and then starts to scramble back.

“Oh no! No no no! We are not going into that ice-cold river in the middle of the damn night!”

“What’s that? ‘Staldar, please carry me to water so we can enjoy a midnight swim before we head back?’ Is that what you said?” In one swift movement, he’s captured Yorsashi and thrown him over his shoulder. Yorsashi’s laughs and cries of protest are near hysterical as he wriggles, fighting futilely against Staldar’s hold. Realizing that escape would be impossible, he clings desperately, hiding his face in Staldar’s neck, legs wrapped tight around his middle.

“Do not drop me in that cold water, Staldar, or I will drown you, I swear to the Gods!”

“No, no, I won’t drop you! I’ve got you, see?” He squeezes Yorsashi tight as he tramps gracelessly into the shallows. Yorsashi, of course, protests loudly as Staldar wades them into the cold water.

“STALDAR!”   
  
“Now you’re being melodramatic,” Staldar laughs as Yorsashi squeals and gasps as he makes contact, clinging tighter. “It’s not that cold.”

“It’s cold enough! Gods!” Yorsashi leans back and slaps the water, splashing it up at Staldar’s face, causing him to sputter and falter, and he nearly  _ does _ drop Yorsashi then, earning a panicked cry and arms being thrown around his neck again. “Ah!” Staldar shakes his head in bemusement.

“Are you quite finished flailing about?”

“I may have gravely misjudged your character. I’ve been tricked,” Yorsashi grouches with fake petulance, laughing into Staldar’s shoulder.

“It’s too late. You said ‘yes,’” Staldar laughs in return, nuzzling the side of Yorsashi’s face.

“Yes,” Yorsashi says warmly, quietly. “Yes I did.”


End file.
